


Halloween

by Sam_Eller



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brothers, Guilt, Halloween, Hurt Sam, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Series, Protective Dean, Teenchesters, sam and dean - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-14 14:49:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16494704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sam_Eller/pseuds/Sam_Eller
Summary: Dean struggles to understand why his little brother is acting so out of character this Halloween.Ch2 - The brothers encounter some very dangerous, very human threats late one Halloween night.Teenchester. Hurt/Caring/Sam and Big Brother/Protective/Dean.





	1. Chapter 1

"Hey short-stuff, you ready to go?" Dean asked his little brother as he walked up to him, leaning casually against the locker next to his.

"Yeah, Dean, just a second." Sam muttered, pulling more textbooks out and shoving them into his book-bag.

"You got a lot of homework or something?"

"No, just trying to catch up."

"We just got here this week, dude, how could you possibly be behind?"

"This school is ahead of our last one. I have no idea what's going on in math or history right now." Sam grumbled, his frustration evident on his expressive young face.

Dean nodded, because he understood. He didn't give a shit about education, but Sammy did and Dean knew how hard it must be on the kid to be switching schools all the time and still meet the impractically high standards he set for himself.

"I'm hoping that if I read through the first few units I will be able to figure out what's going on." Sam explained, shoving another book into his bag.

"You're not planning on doing all that tonight are you? It's Halloween."

"I know, I just have so much to do."

"Don't panic, kiddo, we just got here. Give yourself some time. You'll figure it out." The older teen encouraged as he ruffled his little brother's shaggy brown hair.

Sam rolled his eyes as he ducked his head out of reach.

Dean was about to make fun of him for being such a dork, when he was distracted by someone calling his name.

He turned to see the girl who sat beside him in English class making her way over.

"Hey." He greeted, turning towards her, trying and failing to remember her name.

"You free tonight? Cause a bunch of us are going to hang out at Justin's, his parents are out of town so..." She faded off, probably not wanting to announce in the high school hallway that there would be alcohol at the party.

"That sounds cool, but I'm busy."

"Oh alright, well in case you change your mind, here's the address." What's-her-name said, handing Dean a slip of paper with a home address written in very careful, very girly writing. It was signed Katie, the i dotted with a heart, which made it difficult for Dean not to roll his eyes.

"Thanks." He said, pocketing the note and waiting for her to leave.

"Sure, anytime." She replied, still standing there.

Realizing that she wasn't one for taking a hint, Dean simply turned back to his little brother, hearing heels click off down the hall after a moment.

The older teen watched as Sam struggled to zip-up his overly-stuffed bookbag, clearly favoring his right shoulder the entire time; once he was finally able to get the zipper closed, he went to sling knapsack on, but before it landed in place on his back, Dean reached out and snagged the bag.

"Dean, what the hell?" Sam began to argue as the taller teen tugged the backpack from his grip.

"Holy shit, kid, you got the entire library in here?" Dean queried, feeling the heavy weight settle onto his shoulder.

"I can carry my own damn bag." Sam grumbled, grabbing for the knapsack.

"I doubt it. This weighs more than you do."

"It does not. It's my bag!"

"Well I don't have one, so I'm going to borrow yours."

"You have a backpack, you just never bring it to school because you don't do any work."

"Yeah well, you just got rid of a sling, so how about we let me do the heavy lifting for now."

"Exactly, I got r _id_ of the sling because my shoulder is fine."

"Good, let's keep it that way."

Give it to me, Dean." The younger boy whined, trying to pull it from his brother's shoulder.

"Shut up, Sam." Dean dismissed, making his way out of the school.

Sam could bitch and whine all he wanted, but this was his first day not wearing his sling and Dean could tell that the kid's shoulder was in pain.

He chucked Sam's bag into the backseat before climbing into the Impala. Even though he had already owned her for a little more than a year, Dean still felt a strong sense of pride whenever he sat behind the wheel. Sam dropped into the passenger seat, pulling the door closed and staring sulkily out the windshield.

"And for the record, the doctor said that your sling could come off in two or three weeks. And it has only been two, so it probably shouldn't even be off yet." Dean lectured, as he wove his way through the mass exodus of teenagers and out of the school parking lot.

"Well, if you hadn't dislocated my shoulder, I wouldn't have needed the damn thing in the first place." Sam snapped, throwing an accusatory glare at the teen to his left.

Dean was taken aback by the response. His little brother was right of course. They had been training, and Dean had royally fucked up. He had got caught up in the scuffle and his father's commanding shouts and had pinned Sam much too hard. The brothers had been training more intensely as of late, John pushing them both to their limit and sometimes it caused Dean to forget that even though Sam could fight with a grace and skill far beyond his years, he was still four years younger than Dean and half the firstborn's size. He was still a child. A child that Dean was meant to be protecting, a boy he was supposed to look after, a kid he was fucking raising – and Dean had slammed him into the ground without taking the time or paying enough bloody attention to realize the contorted angle Sam was falling in. The youngest Winchester hadn't even let out a cry after his shoulder had absorbed the force of the fall, but Dean had been able to tell immediately from the look on his kid's face that he had hurt him.

Dean had felt guilty as hell after it happened, and in the hospital, and during the x-rays, and every goddamn second he'd seen his little brother sporting that sling – the guilt had faded a little once the visual evidence had vanished, but Sam's words had just caused it to return full-force, stealing the air from Dean's lungs as violently as a fist to the gut. Dean couldn't blame Sam for pointing out the truth, nor would he, but that didn't mean that it didn't hurt like hell. Especially since his little brother had spent the past couple weeks constantly assuring the older teen that it wasn't his fault. Sam had been claiming that he had been the one to mess-up by attempting a last minute maneuver, causing him to go down on a bad angle; and even though Dean knew that was complete bullshit and the injury had been entirely his own fault, he had felt immensely better knowing that his little brother didn't blame him.

Or so he had thought.

"I didn't mean that."

Dean glanced to his right and noticed that the accusatory stare had been replaced with one of guilt and regret – the same expression he was certain painted his own face at the moment.

He returned his attention to the road, too confused by his storming emotions to form any sort of response.

He had hurt Sam, unintentionally, but he still knew that it was his fault. He never denied that Sam's dislocated shoulder was his doing, and not a day went by since it happened that he didn't feel bad about it. But Sam had been so adamant that it wasn't Dean's fault and the older teen had held on to that, he had allowed himself to believe that his little brother didn't blame him. But now Dean was left wondering that maybe Sam had lied, and maybe he actually blamed the older boy as much as Dean blamed himself.

Not that there would be anything wrong with that, it really shouldn't upset Dean at all. But for some reason, Sam placing rightful accusation on him hurt the teen, it hurt him a lot.

"Dean, seriously, I didn't mean it." Sam declared, placing a hand on Dean's arm, clearly trying to attract his attention.

"Don't worry about it, Sam." Dean replied, sending his little brother an understanding look, hiding the hurt underneath; knowing that the kid didn't deserve to feel bad for stating the facts.

He watched Sam nervously chewing on his lip out of the corner of his eye and felt an instant urge to ease his worries – because Dean deserved every drop of the guilt he was carrying, but Sam sure as hell did not. He had done nothing wrong.

"What kind of junk-food do you want for tonight?" He questioned, diverting the conversation and doing the best to lighten the mood.

It was a tradition. Ever since Sam had found out about the details of the family business, he hated Halloween. He didn't understand why people would celebrate or laugh-off the daily horrors his family experienced. That, and his crippling fear of clowns, pretty much made Halloween the second worst day of the year. So, a few years back the boys started a tradition of spending the evening eating junk food and watching movies.

"Actually, I was wondering if it would be okay if we did something else tonight." Sam suggested quietly, seemingly nervous about what his brother's response would be.

Dean quirked an eyebrow in curiosity, cocking his head to the side.

"What'd you have in mind?"

"Well I got invited to a party, so I thought maybe I would go."

"Oh, alright, you sure?" The teen wondered, surprised that his little brother was up for any sort of Halloween celebration.

"Yeah, and then you can go to your party." Sam pointed out.

"I guess I'll check it out, stay awhile if it isn't too lame." Dean agreed with a sigh, doubting that would be the case.

They sat in silence for a while as Dean tried to figure out why his little brother was all of the sudden feeling Halloween friendly, and Sam kept glancing over at the older boy for some reason Dean wasn't quite grasping. Sam appeared unsure about something, or nervous, the teen couldn't quite pin it.

"You need a costume or anything?" Dean asked, fishing for whatever it was he seemed to be missing.

"No, it's alright." Sam sighed, sounding almost disappointed, making the elder Winchester feel like he'd just flunked a test he hadn't known he was taking. He frowned, his mind still struggling to figure out what was going on with his kid.

He tried to shake it off once they arrived at the motel, assuming he was overthinking things and pushing Sam's confusing behaviour from his mind. He spent the next couple of hours looking after his baby, always enjoying those times dad would go off on a hunt without leaving him with a boatload of shit to do, satisfied that he could actually spend a few hours after school making his girl shine, even though it was getting pretty damn cold outside.

The setting of the sun and the bite of the evening wind sent Dean back inside, where he was far from surprised to find his little brother curled up on the couch with his nose in a book.

"You want anything for dinner?" Dean inquired, walking back into the stuffy motel room.

"No, it's fine. Don't you have to get going?" Sam asked, glancing up over his history textbook.

"Yeah, I was going to grab a shower and then head out. Where do you need to be dropped off?"

"Uuhh…we were just going to meet at the arcade, so… I can walk." Sam stuttered out.

"No, I'll drop you off."

"No, Dean, really, it's fine. I'll walk."

"What the hell, dude? The arcade is all the way across town, just let me take you." Dean insisted, confused yet again by his kid's irregular behaviour.

"It's not that far. Just let me walk." Sam argued.

"No. I'm driving you. End of story. Be ready in ten." The teen finalized, closing the bathroom door to end the conversation.

Ten minutes later the brothers were back in the car. Sam was silent the entire way to the arcade, only muttering a quiet "thanks" as he went to climb out of the vehicle.

"Hey! Wait, what time you going to be finished here?" Dean asked, grabbing hold of Sam's sleeve to stall his exit.

"I don't know." Sam grumbled, before tugging his jacket away from Dean's grip.

"Well give me a time to come pick you up at." The teen instructed, growing tired of the attitude he was receiving for a reason he didn't totally understand.

"You don't have to pick me up, I can walk back. I have legs." Sam stated.

"Congratulations, but I'm still coming to get you. So what time?"

"Gawd, Dean, just let it go. I'm walking home. I don't need you escorting me everywhere." The younger boy argued, a definite bite to his words.

"You think I get off on being your fucking chauffer, dude?" Dean snapped back.

"Then just got to your stupid party and leave me the fuck alone." Sam nearly shouted, ripping his sleeve from his brother's grasp and slamming the door.

Dean watched the kid march into the building, debating whether or not to get out and drag that skinny-ass back to the motel. He decided that not only would that course of action mortify his little brother, but it wasn't worth the effort, because that stubborn brat probably wouldn't co-operate and there was no chance in hell Dean was going to get physical with him, especially not after he already dislocated the young boy's shoulder.

So, he let Sam be, but as he guided the Impala back onto the road, his mind was still mauling over the young teen's latest behaviour.

First, Sam throws the fact that Dean messed up his shoulder in his brother's face, which - while being entirely understandable - was very unlike Sam, and then the he opts out of their yearly tradition, which was also very unlike him; Sam had always had a love for their traditions even as lame as the Winchester version of tradition could sometimes be. A part of Dean wanted to just peg this as one of those days where the two of them just needed some space from one another, but the big brother part of him knew that there was something else going on. Perhaps Sam was mad about his brother - the one person on the planet he was supposed to be able to trust and depend on - hurting him during training, or maybe he was at the age where it was no longer cool to hang out with your older brother.

That stung.

Because what the hell? Dean spent years watching out for and looking after the snot-nosed midget, and it's not like that helped his badass image one fucking bit. He had ditched loads of parties, choosing to hang out with his little brother instead. He spent his entire life making sacrifices for the little prick, and now that Sam's older he ditches Dean the second he can?

Could he be that selfish?

Dean was sorry that he hurt the kid, honest to God he was, he had had been having shitty dreams about it, hadn't gotten a good sleep in weeks - but wasn't like he did it on purpose. It wasn't his fault that Sam was so freaking small and that John wouldn't stop fucking yelling and drilling them, and that he had been exhausted and hadn't been focussed enough on his little brother and the awkward angle he had twisted himself into.

He'd fucked up and he knew it, but Sam didn't get to hate him for it.

He hurt the kid one fucking time, he made one goddamn mistake, and Sam decides that he's too good for Dean? That he doesn't want to hang around his brother anymore?

Well fine then, it was no sweat off Dean's back. He had better things to do then spend the evening with some snot-nosed brat. Sam was too damn good for him now? Dean had finally made a mistake too big to be forgiven? Sam had decided he was done with him? Fine.

Fuck him.

Dean's stomach was twisted in guilt and hurt, and his jaw was clenched in barely contained anger as he pulled up to the address written on the paper sitting crumpled in my pocket.

The party was in full swing. It was over-crowded, everyone was wearing shitty costumes, holding some sort of alcoholic beverage, and already tipsy enough to be loud and irritating. Dean wandered about for a while, doing little to contribute to any sort of conversation he was sucked into. After less than an hour he realized that it just wasn't happening.

Not tonight.

He hadn't even had anything to drink yet, but he knew he wasn't staying any longer. Even with that one girl from English class practically throwing herself at him, Dean couldn't get his mind off his stupid little brother. Though part of him wanted to stay and drink himself into oblivion so he could forget how hurt and furious he was, he knew he couldn't do that, not tonight. He had to stay sober in case Sam did end up needing a ride home and he had to stay aware and conscious enough to be back at the motel at a reasonable hour so he could be sure that Sam made it back at a reasonable hour. Because he had to make sure the little shit was safe.

Because the reality was, that no matter how much Sam hated him, Dean would never stop looking out for the kid.

Dean marched back out into the cold, tugging his leather jacket tighter around himself as he shivered. He took a moment to appreciate the silence after having endured the pounding bass and the loud teenagers thundering through the house, before climbing back into the Impala and heading back to the motel, resigning himself to an evening of vedging in front of the idiot box. The chill in the air had him worried about his little brother. It was fucking cold and Sam was wearing his fall jacket which was shit and was something Dean had already intended to throw out once the season had ended. The damn thing was worn through and Dean had wanted to replace it as soon as the summer ended but Sam had insisted it was fine and of course their father and seconded that because John was a fucking moron. Dan scowled as he drove down the dark road, trying not to think about his little brother walking across town, shivering in the night air.

But why should Dean even care? Because Sam certainly didn't. Hell, the kid didn't even want Dean around, even if he was just there looking after the brat.

How could Sam not understand how much Dean had sacrificed for him?

How many times had the older teen given up things for his little brother?

And then the second he can the kid jumps at his first chance to ditch the older boy.

Dean was so wrapped up in his anger that he failed to notice the light filtering out of the motel room as he parked. He opened the door expecting an empty room, but instead he was greeted by the sight of a skinny, shaggy-headed kid seated at the small kitchen table, looking up at him with wide watery eyes.

And just like that, the Dean's anger dissipated.

"Sammy? What's wrong?" He asked as he glanced around the room, finding no cause for alarm (other then a visibly distressed little brother) he strode over to the table and squatted next to Sam.

"Nothing's wrong. I'm fine." The younger boy declared, wiping furiously at his eyes.

"Cut the bullshit, Sam." Dean ordered; his tone serious, but far from threatening.

He watched as his brother turned his head, effectively hiding his face from Dean's view as he collected himself. Dean pulled the other chair over beside Sam, dropping down into it. Giving orders rarely ever worked on his little brother, it was time for a more effective method, talking and listening.

"What happened, buddy? Why aren't you at the arcade?"

"I never went." Sam admitted quietly.

"Yeah, you did. I dropped you off." Dean pointed out.

"And then I waited for you to leave…and I walked back here."

"What the hell, Sam?" Dean barked, his concern coming out as anger. He didn't like that the kid lied to him, but he _really_ didn't like that he walked all the way back across town alone in the dark and the cold. "Why'd you do that? Why didn't you stay for the party?" Dean repeated calmly, internally reminding himself that Sam required patience, not anger.

"There was no party… I was never invited to anything. We've only been at that school for a week; I don't even have any friends yet." Sam responded with a sigh.

"Then why did you lie to me?" The older teen asked.

Sam just stared at Dean, eyebrows raised, as if the reason was evident.

Dean studied the kid, trying to figure out what the hell he was missing. Realizing that he was having no luck whatsoever Sam released a long sigh and let his hair fall before his eyes, before reluctantly spelling it out for his clueless big brother.

"Because I wanted you to go to your party." He stated softly.

"Why? You wanted some time alone to sulk around in this room and stare at the table top?" Dean mocked, just now noticing that there wasn't even a book on the table, no evidence that Sam had been up to anything remotely entertaining at all. No evidence for a reason he would want to be alone… unless…

"Is this about your shoulder? About what I did?" Dean questioned quietly, feeling the guilt hit him yet again.

Sam looked over at the taller boy, eyes wide.

"Because I'm really sorry, Sam. I swear it won't happen again! Dad was just pushing us so hard…and somehow I forgot how much younger and smaller you are and I wasn't watching closely like I should have been. But I swear to God, Sammy, it won't ever happen again! I will be more—

"Stop!"

Dean's apology ended abruptly at his little brother's demand.

"This is not about my shoulder, Dean. That wasn't your fault!"

"Yeah, it was. I pinned you too hard and I didn't pay enough attention to the way you were going down."

"You can't always go easy on me. So, I fell wrong. It's no one's fault. Shit just happens."

Dean gave the kid an exasperated look.

"Don't quote me to me, Sam. It's weird."

His little brother let out a surprised laugh, two dimples making a brief appearance on his young face. Dean couldn't help but smile, Sammy's stupid dimples always having that effect on him.

"Fine, so if it's not about your shoulder, then what's your deal?" Dean asked, getting back to business.

Sam's face fell as he returned his gaze to the marked-up table top.

"Come on, kiddo. Spit it out." He encouraged.

"I just wanted you to get to have some fun." Sam confessed quietly, looking up at his brother from underneath all that ridiculous hair.

Dean's only reaction was one raised eyebrow, a clear display that he still wasn't getting it.

Sam rolled his eyes as he released a dramatic sigh, his classic I-can't-believe-I-have-to-explain-this-shit sigh.

"You always get invited to hang out with people or go to parties, and you almost never go…cause of me. And I just didn't want you to miss something else because you were stuck hanging out with me." The confession was made in a soft voice with a bit of a tremble, and it hurt to listen to.

Dean instantly began to berate himself. How the hell did he ever think for one fucking second that his little brother didn't care about the things Dean sacrificed? How could he accuse Sam of not thinking of him or wanting to hang out with him?

How the fuck did he let himself believe that his kid was selfish in any way shape or form?

Sam had never been selfish, not for one damn day in his entire life.

"Dean?" The call pulled the older Winchester from his inner tirade and he focussed back in on the young boy sitting before him.

"Why the hell would you think that I would rather go to some lame-ass party than hang out with my dorky little brother?" He wondered, in all seriousness.

"Oh gee, Dean, I don't know. Maybe cause I'm just a stupid kid who doesn't have any friends and who always keeps you from hanging out with yours." Sam muttered dejectedly.

Dean hated himself, because that statement sounded disgustingly like something his traitorous brain had come up with earlier. But even when it had crossed his mind while he had been fuming in the car, he had known instantly that it wasn't true. And he needed Sam to know the same.

"Sam, I need you to understand something." Dean began, reaching over and brushing his little brother's bangs, smoothing them off to the side, so he could get a clear view of those puppy dog eyes. "I need you to listen careful cause I'm only saying this once, kiddo." Dean said, his voice soft but sure.

Sam nodded his head in silent agreement, as he waited for his brother to continue.

"The things I do, the things I give up, I do it _for_ you Sammy, not _because_ of you."

His little brother squinted, a look of concentration on his face as he seemed to be trying to figure out what it was Dean meant.

"I choose to hang out with you instead, because you're my little brother, and I _want_ to look after you and spend time with you. That is what I _want_. Not what I have to do, not what I'm ordered to do, not even what you need. It's what I want."

"But it's not fair! You should be able to go to parties and have fun with people your own age…you shouldn't be stuck with me all the time." Sam insisted miserably.

"It is my choice, little brother, to hang around with you. And I don't regret it or resent you for it, not ever. You understand?" Dean proclaimed, ignoring the lump in his throat as he placed a hand gently under Sam's chin to angle his face up towards his own, needing to be sure he was getting the message.

The younger boy's eyes filled and his nostrils did that little flare they always do when he is holding back tears, as his jaw clenched and he nodded in comprehension.

"Say it, Sammy. I need to know that you get it." There was no way he was going to allow his little brother to think that he wasn't number one in Dean's life, or that he was some sort of burden the older teen was forced to carry. Because that was total bullshit.

"I got it, Dee" The way his voice cracked on the shortened version of his big brother's name made Dean's heart clench, and it was all he could do not to start bawling like a little girl right then and there. This teenager often looked and sounded just like the little boy Dean had raised and he had a feeling that even when Sam was an adult, Dean would always look at him and see glimpses of the child he was.

"Good." Dean grunted, awkwardly clearing his throat as he allowed his hand to fall from Sam's face, looking away to get a hold on his emotions. "Alright well if we are all good here I think we best get our asses to the corner store if we want some junk food for tonight." Dean suggested casually, sniffing and discreetly tubbing at his eyes as he came to a stand.

"Yeah that sounds good! I'm just going to grab something real quick." Sam said, jumping to his feet.

Dean nodded and made his way out to the Impala, sliding behind the wheel once again and sighing in relief.

Last time he had been sitting in this seat he had been so bitter and angry towards his baby brother, and now those feelings all seemed so absurd.

The truth was, he had never truly been angry, he had been hurt.

Hurt by the idea that his little brother could not forgive Dean for his latest transgression, and that the kid no longer wanted to spend time with him. And somehow he had allowed that hurt to turn into anger against Sam. Against the one person in his life who had never failed him and had always made him feel more love and worth than he ever thought possible.

That was unacceptable and he would not allow it to happen again.

When Sam dropped down into the passenger seat he was wearing his sling again. Dean gave him a questioning look, waiting for the explanation.

"I guess I'm not really ready for it to come off yet. My shoulder is still pretty sore." He confessed.

"Well I could have told you that. Why'd you take it off in the first place?" The teen asked, pulling out of the parking lot.

"Because every time you saw it you looked guilty, and I didn't want you to feel that way. But since we agreed that it was an accident—

"We did?" Dean interrupted, knowing that Sam had said as much, but that the older boy had never and would never deny responsibility for the injury.

"Yeah, we did. Weren't you there? Don't worry I'll send you the memo." Sam confirmed with a nod, smiling at his brother before turning to look out the windshield.

"Bitch." Dean quipped with a smirk.

"Jerk." Sam laughed.

Gawd, Dean loved this kid.

How the hell he could have ever thought Sam to be selfish blew his mind.

Sammy had forever been the most selfless person Dean had ever known.

Hell, the kid took off his fucking sling so that Dean wouldn't feel guilty. He willingly spent the day in uncomfortable pain so that his big brother would feel better. And as if that wasn't enough, Sam chose to spend Halloween on his own in a stuffy motel room staring at a table top, so that Dean could go to some lame-ass teenage party.

Selfish, what a fucking joke.

Dean looked over at the young teenager, visibly happy and relaxed as he sat in the passenger seat. And he knew that Sam loved him just as much as he loved Sam.

Sam gave up things for him and he gave up things for Sam.

They sacrificed for each other.

There was nothing Dean wouldn't sacrifice for Sammy… and a part of him knew that there was nothing his kid brother wouldn't sacrifice for him. And while that scared him to death, it was just the way the two boys were.

It was part of being brothers.

And nothing would ever change that.


	2. Chapter 2

Note: Okay, so I'm like a day late with this one, but in my defence I didn't start it until late on the 31st and I had it finished by 7 this morning but I had to go to work and didn't have time to edit - and I know how testy ya'll get when I don't edit (though, fair warning, I've been away for 37hrs so the editting is likely sub-par at best). Anyways, sorry it's late.

* * *

Sam shifted closer to the middle of the front bench seat, trying to keep his right shoulder away from the door it kept bumping into. It was a relatively short drive to the variety store, but for some reason Sam's shoulder always tended to throb more at night; plus, he hadn't been wearing his sling all day and his injury was bound to be sorer because of that.

"You okay?" Dean asked, glancing down at Sam to his right, obviously noticing that the kid had slid closer to him.

"Yeah." Sam stated with a nod. He was being honest, because though his shoulder was throbbing pretty hard, everything was okay. Because he had Dean. He hadn't been okay when he had been sitting alone in the motel thinking about how lonely he was and how terribly he had treated his big brother, but then Dean came back and he made everything okay – just like he always did.

"Your shoulder pretty sore?" Dean questioned, guilt and concern written all over his face.

Sam barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes. He didn't know what else he had to do to get his brother to stop blaming himself for dislocating his stupid shoulder. He had told the older teen a dozen times that what happened was not his fault and he thought he had finally gotten through Dean's thick head, but then Sam had been an absolute idiot and - in his frustration - blamed his brother for his injury. So it really wasn't any surprise that Dean was feeling guilty again and Sam was going to have to work twice as hard to convince the man of his innocence.

"Things always hurt more at night." Sam responded simply, shrugging his good shoulder.

Dean grunted, because he knew it was true, but his expression remained shadowed with guilt.

The younger boy gave his head a hopeless shake, staring out the windshield as they arrived at the variety store.

"Alright, let's go stock up on sugar." Dean announced as he put the Impala in park and climbed out.

Sam grinned, glad his brother was smiling, even if it didn't completely erase the lines on his face.

The young teenager managed a graceful exit from the vehicle, which was harder than usual with his right arm secured to his chest, but he failed to hide the shiver as he was hit with the cold air.

"Tomorrow after school were getting you a new jacket." Dean grumbled.

Sam did roll his eyes this time, because Dean had been after his coat for the past two months. Sure, it was a little worn – one of his brother's hand-me-downs that actually remained unstained and intact long enough to be handed down – but it fit okay, actually it was still a little big because for the life of him Sam couldn't seem to get any taller.

"I'm serious." The older boy added.

"Really? I couldn't tell, it's not like you haven't mentioned how shitty my jacket is seventy-two times." Sam responded, marching through the door his brother opened, hearing the high-pitched _ding-dong_ that announced their entrance.

"Smart-mouth." Dean responded, gently swatting the back of Sam's head, it was hardly a swat at all really, more like a tap. Sam figured that would be the new norm for awhile, his big brother being overly cautious with him physically, even in his jesting actions. It would be that way until Dean finally forgave himself for accidently injuring his little brother. It would take some time before the two could return to their playful contact, it would be far longer before they would be sparring again.

"I'll get the candy, you get the chips." Sam called out as he made his way to the aisle he knew held the treats he was scouting for. He spared a quick glance at the only other person occupying the dimly lit very dirty, corner store, a disinterested man who was focussed very intently on the small TV set up behind the counter.

"Fine, but you better grab me some M&M's and licorice!" Dean hollered as he moved closer to the very front of the store where the chips were placed.

"Gross, Dean. Licorice is disgusting."

"If you want to watch movies all night, I need my licorice."

"Puke." Sam mumbled under his breath as he arrived at the candy section situated at the back of the store.

"Hey! I heard that. Don't be disparaging a classic, Sam."

"Figures he'd save his five dollar words for important things like movie snacks." Sam remarked under his breath, a fond smirk on his face even as he rolled his eyes.

"Just for that, I'm not getting you Cheetos." Sam heard his brother declare from across the small empty store.

Sam shook his head, he couldn't tell if his brother's supernatural hearing came from hunting or from raising a kid – he was beginning to believe it was from the latter, he'd heard from classmates at school that mom's all had insanely good hearing, and his dad was a hunter but he didn't hear nearly as well as Dean did – which was good because if John heard half the shit Sam mumbled under his breath he would tan his hide…if Dean were ever to allow that.

Sam was distracted from his thoughts and the assortment of junk food on display, by the electronic sound that accompanied the door opening. Sam froze as he watched three figures enter the store. They all had baggy sweatshirts on with their hoods up and all of them were wearing masks. They were Halloween masks, gory and misshapen, and though it was the proper night for that sort of thing, Sam knew that they were not here to trick or treat. Sam watched with wide eyes as one of the masked men stood at the front door, staring out in the parking lot – he was the lookout, a job Sam was all too familiar with, but on a far less sinister scale…or atleast a slightly less sinister scale. Both of the other men approached the counter, one hanging further back, closer to Dean, while the other marched right up to the man behind the cash register.

Sam's wide eyes tracked to Dean, his heart pounding in his chest as he could feel the tension fill the small store and he knew immediately what was about to happen. The look on his older brother's face told Sam that he wasn't the only one who knew exactly what was about to go down. Dean looked keyed up and ready to fight, but Sam didn't miss the shine of fear in the older teen's green eyes as they locked on to his hazel ones. Dean looked as panicked as Sam felt, though the experienced hunter was much better at masking his emotions. He could easily tell though, that Dean wanted to be near Sam just as badly as Sam wanted to be next to his big brother. He wanted to run across the store to Dean, but knew better then to go through with such a foolish plan of action, no matter how badly he wanted to.

Dean held a finger to his lips and signalled for Sam to duck down, before a hollered demand turned his focus back to the hooded figure at the counter. The younger teen crouched down, thankful for once that his lack height didn't make it the least bit difficult to disappear behind the shelving, which he was just able to see through.

"Empty the fucking register." The masked man demanded, as he tossed what looked like a pillow case onto the surface in front of him.

The guy sitting behind the counter finally removed his eyes from the television, his expression nearly comical as he realized what was going on.

"What the fuck?" He shouted, sounding both furious and terrified.

"I said empty the fucking register!" The man repeated, pulling a handgun from the front pocket of his sweater and pointing it at the cashier, who was surprisingly slow to respond, but eventually popped the register open and reached for the pillow case.

Sam glanced back over at Dean, his heart thudding as he saw the guy that was near his brother had also pulled out a firearm, as well as the one who was positioned at the door.

"Hurry the fuck up!" The robber hollered, punching the air with his firearm on each syllable.

"Hey, take it easy man, he's working on it." To a stranger Dean's voice would sound nothing but level and calm, but Sam had no issue detecting the angry and fearful undertones.

The thief at the counter turned, his gun aimed at Dean as he screamed. "Shut the fuck up!"

Terror ricocheted through Sam, he could barely breathe, the taste of blood in his mouth as he bit down hard on his lip to keep from making a sound.

"Alright man, just take it easy." Dean placated, his palms up in the air. The gunman swung back to the cashier, who had finished filling the pillowcase with money.

"We still clear?" The man Sam was assuming to be the leader, called back to the one stationed at the entryway.

"Yeah, we're good." He returned gruffly, his focus on the outdoors not wavering.

"Good. Where's the safe?"

The cashier pointed shakily to the door behind him.

"Jay, take this fatass to the back and have him empty the safe."

The third member nodded, following instruction without hesitation or comment, as the two disappeared into the room that looked like an office, the leader's attention returned to Dean, as did the aim of his weapon.

The man behind the mask seemed jittery and paranoid, his gun and his body turning around in a circle as he seemed to be scanning the store, Sam was thinking that these guys, specifically the leader, were definitely on some sort of narcotic.

"Where the fuck is the kid?" He yelled.

Sam flinched at both the volume of the question and the fact that he was now officially on the angry man's radar.

"Where is he?" He repeated louder this time, his movements growing more erratic.

Sam held his breath, his eyes on Dean as his brother watched the leader with a look that the older teen usually reserved for monsters.

"What kid?" The guy at the door asked, without moving from his post.

"There was a fucking kid in here before. Where the fuck did he go?"

"He didn't leave. Nobody went out this door." He stated, sounding almost proud of himself.

"Then where the fuck did he go?" The leader shouted out.

"What's going on?" That was Jay who had just returned with a pillow case full of cash and the variety store employee ahead of him being guided with a gun to his back.

"Go find the fucking kid! He was in here. Go find him!" The shot-caller demanded.

The other man nodded, handing the bag of cash over to the leader before making his way through the aisles.

"You have what you came for. Just go." Dean's words sounding like an angry suggestion.

Sam glanced around, knowing he had nowhere to go and only a matter of seconds before he was found.

"Hey! Take your money and get the hell out of here!" That was an order, and a furious one at that.

"Shut the fuck up!" The leader nearly screamed, his entire body shaking as he shook his gun in Dean's direction.

Sam was so distracted by the threat to his brother, that he didn't notice he had been found before a rough hand grabbed the back of his jacket and yanked him violently to his feet.

"Found him." Jay declared, as he shoved Sam in front of him, towards everyone else.

Sam winched at the rough treatment, his shoulder flaring in pain, but the feel of the handgun digging into the back of his head made it easy for Sam to forget his discomfort.

"Leave him the hell alone!" Dean commanded, no trace of calm left in his voice as he glared lethally at the man standing behind Sam and marching him to the front of the store.

"What the fuck do you care?" The leader questioned.

"He's just a kid. Just take your money and leave." Dean had gone from a suggestion to an order and had just arrived at a warning – and when it came to Dean Winchester, you only got one warning before it was game over. Sam wondered if he should share that information with these assholes.

The leader ignored both Dean and his warning, as he made his way to Sam.

"What the fuck were you doing back there, kid? Huh? You hiding like a little chicken shit? Thought I wouldn't notice?"

Sam shook his head, not sure how else to react as the masked face hovered inches from his, he tried to move back but the firearm pressing into the back of his head put a stop to that.

"You a mute? Or just a retard?" The man taunted, pressing the barrel of his gun up under Sam's chin, forcing the kid's head up into an unnatural angle. Sam tried to shift away, but a hand that had to belong to the man behind him clamped down onto his injured shoulder and squeezed remarkably hard. The smaller boy released a pained cry, resisting his body's desire to pull away from the pain as he felt the increase of two metallic barrels against his skin.

His attention and that of the two men surrounding him was shifted as a loud thump sounded through the enclosed space. The leader turned, allowing Sam a view of what had happened. The man who had been standing watch was laying unmoving on the ground and Dean was standing a few feet away with the lookout's weapon held firmly in his hand and pointed steadily at the masked man who had been calling all the shots.

"Get the fuck away from him before I blow a hole through your fucking skull." Dean demanded, his tone nothing short of lethal.

"Holy shit." The shocked whisper of the cashier was barely noted as the standoff continued.

Sam kept his eyes on his brother, sucking in a sharp breath as he felt additional pressure from the gun pressed up under his chin and the grip on his shoulder only intensified.

"Take the cash and go, or decorate the floor with your brains. Your choice." Dean seethed.

Sam cried out as he was dragged by his right arm to stand in front of the leader, who did what he could to crouch behind his small form, clearly trying to use him as a human shield. Sam jumped as he heard a gun go off, and glanced to his left in time to see the guy Jay fall to the ground. He was groaning and holding his shoulder, his gun discarded on the ground as blood began to seep through his sweater.

Dean's aim was steady and tracked the leader.

"You're next." Dean promised, sounding every big as dangerous as John Winchester ever had.

Sam squawked out an embarrassing sound as he was jerked forward, being steered by his injured shoulder to move across the store towards the entrance.

"You shoot at me, you risk hitting the stupid mute you like so much." The leader jeered as he hid behind Sam, the bag of cash hitting the kid in the back as he walked, the thief holding it and the gun in his left hand. The barrel still pressed against Sam's cheekbone now, shaking as the weight of the money-filled pillow case prevented the masked man from holding his weapon steady.

Dean tracked their movements, the borrowed handgun never wavering as it followed them across the filthy tiled floor. As they neared the door, Sam knew he had to make his move, it was now or never. He didn't know how far this asshole was planning to take him but he didn't want to find out. He wasn't in the proper position for any skilled moves, he knew he wouldn't be able to take the guy down, the size difference was far too great and Sam was down to one good arm – but he could give his brother a clear shot.

Sam waited for Dean's intense gaze to shift back to his hazel eyes, before going deadweight and dropping bonelessly to the ground, feeling pain seer through his shoulder as it connected with the unforgiving floor. He flinched at the noise of the shot and had the oxygen forced from his lungs as a heavy weight toppled onto him.

"Sam!" The call was accompanied by familiar hands that pulled the smaller boy from beneath the masked robber. "Sammy, kiddo. You okay?" With the danger incapacitated, Dean had finally allowed himself to panic, Sam could hear it in his voice and see it clearly on his pale face.

"M'okay." He rasped, sucking in a lungful of air as he tried to ignore the pain pulsing though his right shoulder.

"You sure?" Dean asked from his position squatted down in front of his little brother, his hands shaking as he brushed Sam's bangs to the side and grazed his thumb over the indents the younger boy knew had been left by the barrel of the handgun on his cheekbone and under his chin.

Sam nodded, still working to inhale a sufficient amount of oxygen.

Dean opened his mouth, but the sound of sirens had him slamming his jaw closed and bolting to a stand.

"Dude! That was fucking insane." The corner store employee exclaimed as he glanced around at the three men all laid out on the floor moaning, groaning, and bleeding – except for the lookout who remained unconscious.

Dean paid not mind to the comment as he guided Sam towards the door.

"Hey, where you going? The cops are going to want to talk to you." The cashier said.

Dean paused at the door, glancing back. "Yeah, umm, I can't – we can't, umm, we can't stay." Dean stuttered, sounded more like an unsure teenager then the badass hunter that had just been on display a moment ago. Sam looked up at his big brother, watching as the young man's complexion became nearly ghostly, his freckles stark against their pale backdrop, as his weary gaze surveyed the damage he had done.

It wasn't until that moment, taking in Dean's lost and panicked state that Sam realized his brother had never shot a human. Dean had gotten in to a lot of fights, he'd kicked plenty of 100% human ass, and there'd been a several scumbags that Sam had known his big brother had wanted to kill, but it had never come to that. Dean had killed a lot of things, he'd shot plenty more, but never a human being.

Until tonight.

The men would live, the wounds were all superficial, but still, shooting humans was different then shooting targets or the things that went bump in the night. Sam glanced from the shocked teen to the confused employee, motivated by the sirens he could hear coming closer. "We can't talk to the cops." He supplied vaguely, hoping the cashier wouldn't ask for details.

It took a minute, but the other man appeared to arrive at his own conclusions and nodded his head in what Sam was sure he thought to be some level of comprehension.

"That's cool, man. Don't worry about it. I'll make up something for the cops. It's the least I can do, you saved my ass, kid."

Dean nodded, before glancing up at the security camera hanging by the door.

"Oh hey, don't worry about it. Those haven't worked in years, boss is too cheap to fix them." The employee declared confidently.

Dean nodded again, sending the older man an almost grateful look, before his gaze tracked back to the three men still groaning and rolling about on their floor – all their weapons a significant distance a way from where they lay, Dean must have kicked them out of reach at some point.

The sirens were approaching quickly, a sound that Sam had grown-up conditioned to run from.

"C'mon, Dean." He prodded softly, tugging on his brother's sleeve.

Dean responded immediately, appearing to snap out of his daze, gently splaying his hand over Sam's back as he ushered him from the store and quickly to the Impala. He opened the driver's side door and helped steady Sam as he dropped inside, Dean waited for the smaller boy to shift over before dropping in behind the wheel. Dean pulled quickly out of the parking lot and drove in the opposite direction from which the sirens could be heard – it was the long way back to the motel, but Winchesters and cops didn't mix, so the precaution was necessary.

Sam stayed seated close to Dean, remaining pressed up against his brother instead of moving over to the passenger seat he usually chose to occupy.

"You cold?"

The question took some time to get to Sam's brain, but once it did he glanced to his left with raised eyebrows.

"You're shaking." Dean explained softly, reaching forward to turn up the heat. Sam frowned, he hadn't noticed.

Once they returned to the motel, Sam followed his brother out the driver's side door, not wanting to be more than a few feet from the only person who had ever made him feel completely safe. He followed the older teen on the short trip to the door, accidently knocking into him when he failed to notice that Dean had stopped and was unlocking their room. Dean opened the door and gently guided Sam into the stuffy space with a hand on the back of his neck. Sam stood and watched as Dean closed the door and slid both locks back into place, before moving around the room, pulling the blinds and turning the heat up. Sam just stood in the center of the small space, feeling slightly numb and unsure of what to do.

"Fuck."

The teen looked up at the whispered curse, watching as Dean dragged his hands through his hair and over his face, the young man looking about twice his age.

"We're okay, Dean." Sam rasped, feeling exhausted and pained and cold, but needing to do something to comfort his big brother. Though he wished he had managed to make the comment sound more like a statement and less like a question.

Dean's gaze locked onto his brothers, the green eyes had lost their threat and fight and fire, they looked faded and tired.

"Yeah, Sammy. We're okay." Dean replied, moving forward and reaching out for the younger boy, checking him over once again. "You sure you're good?" He asked, his thumb swiping gently at Sam's bottom lip where he knew he had broken the skin with his teeth.

"Yeah."

"How's your shoulder?"

"Sore."

"I bet. Let me take a look."

Sam stood silently and allowed Dean to slide off his jacket and his sling, followed by his shirt. He shivered as his bare skin was exposed. Once the older teen was satisfied that no further damage had been done and had dossed the kid with a sufficient amount of Advil, Sam moved to slide his shirt back on, but Dean snatched it away.

"Wha—" He didn't have time to finish his complaint before a warm sweater was being slid over his head and onto his thin frame. Sam fed his arms carefully through the sleeves and allowed himself to absorb the warmth of the soft fabric. It was Dean's sweatshirt, a new one that Sam had got Dean for his last birthday because all his other sweaters were either ruined or had been unofficially adopted by his little brother. "It's soft." He whispered.

"I know, softest one I got." Dean commented, slipping out of his own jacket as he lead Sam to the couch and gently pushed him down onto the cushioned surface before sitting himself across from the youbner boy on the warn wood coffee table. "You hungry?" He asked.

Sam shook his head, he didn't feel much like eating.

"Thirsty?"

Sam shook his head once again.

"What do you need, kiddo?" Dean questioned, his voice impossibly soft as he leaned forward.

Dean had been a violent hunter such a short time ago, lethal and rageful and frightening. There was no trace of that hunter now. No, now Dean was gentle and caring and soft, he was comforting and loving. Sam needed both versions of his brother equally, and he loved both sides of Dean unconditionally.

"Hey, you need anything, Sammy?" Dean repeated, ducking down closer, probably assuming Sam had zoned out on him.

The younger boy nodded in response.

"What? What do you need, kiddo?" Dean inquired in a tone of voice that told Sam if he asked for the fucking moon, his brother would find a way to get it for him.

But Sam didn't need the moon.

He needed the one person who made him feel safe, who had always made him feel safe.

He needed his protector.

He needed his big brother.

"You." Sam answered simply.

Dean's forehead crinkled. "What?"

Sam just nodded as he reached forward with his left hand and wrapped his fingers in Dean's flannel shirt and tugged him forward. He continued pulling until Dean was situated on the couch next to him. Sam gave the teen a moment to get settled before collapsing into him.

Dean grunted, but quickly adjusted himself to accommodate Sam's small form, allowing the younger boy to rest against his chest. Dean's right hand rested against Sam's ribcage, helping to support Sam's arm and keep his shoulder stabilized.

Dean tugged the blanket off the back of the couch and spread it over the two of them, before reaching for the remote and turning on the television. There were loads of horror movies on, but for some reason the older boy landed on the cartoon network. Sam figured it was because the two had experienced enough violence for one night.

"Fucking Halloween." Sam grumbled as the night's events bombarded his mind.

"Hey, language." Dean chastised, but Sam could hear the smile in his voice.

"Think the cops will come talk to us?" He wondered, glancing at the curtains covering the window out to the parking lot.

"As long as that guy was being real about those cameras not working. I wiped my prints off the gun. The cashier won't say nothing. We'll be fine." Dean stated, sounding pretty sure of himself. "Besides, if they do show it's not like we did anything wrong. It's just better not to have them sticking their noses into our business."

Sam hummed in agreement.

"You going to tell Dad?" The younger boy queried, not caring either way, simply curious.

Sam's body lifted as he felt his brother shrug.

"Don't know, maybe when we see him next. Maybe not." Dean sighed, sounding worn out by the very thought of it. Sam nodded, agreeing with whatever his brother wanted to do, but dropping the subject because he hated when Dean sounded so depleted. He was too young to sound that way.

A part of him wanted to thank Dean for what he had done that night, but Sam knew how his brother would hate that. So he didn't. Because that was the very least Sam could do for the person who had just saved his life…again.

"We never got any candy." Sam sighed, allowing himself to fully relax into his big brother as he stared blankly at a vaguely familiar episode of the Flintstones.

"No, we didn't. I'm sure if we go in tomorrow we could get some for free." Dean offered.

"I don't want to go there tomorrow." Sam mumbled.

"We won't." Dean assured.

"Do we have to go to school tomorrow?" Sam asked, usually he'd be all for it, but he was so exhausted – he knew it was an adrenaline crash, but still the mere idea of having to function filled Sam with dread.

"No, buddy, we don't have to go to school."

Sam nodded, his hair sliding against Dean's shirt as he sighed in content relief.

They both silently stared at the television, neither speaking again until some time had passed, an old episode of Scooby-Doo now playing out on the screen.

"Fuck, Sammy. That asshole could have killed you." Dean spoke, his words hushed and haunted.

"He didn't." Sam assured softly.

"I know, it's just – he was so hopped up on shit, and his hand was shaking so much. Fuck. He damn near shot you by accident." Dean croaked out.

Sam knew he was one of the only people on the planet who got to see Dean's fear. Growing up he knew his brother was Superman, and that hadn't changed when he'd learned how to read Dean and see through his tough-guy act, and it hadn't changed when the older boy finally let his guard down and was honest with Sam about his emotions – the few occasions that actually occurred. Sam never saw weakness in Dean's fear or distress. He never judged his brother, not once. Dean was the best, strongest person Sam knew, he was his hero – and that would never change, no matter what. Sam's only reaction to his brother's fear or distress was the desperate desire to rid of it.

"We're okay. Both of us. We're okay." Sam affirmed, wishing he had something more significant to say, but knowing that he had said what mattered most.

"Yeah. We are." Dean agreed, his calloused hand rubbing Sam's chest as he released a heavy sigh.

"You can stop feeling guilty now." Sam pointed out, after a few moments, his eyes lazily viewing the TV screen as Shaggy and Scooby wandered off on their own and found themselves in a heap of trouble, as per usual.

"What?"

"About my shoulder, you can stop feeling guilty."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah."

"And why is that?"

"Cause it's not your fault—

"Sam, come on, man. If I hadn't—

"Doesn't matter, it wasn't your fault." Sam dismissed, not caring much for his brother's reasoning, because he knew the truth. "And you saved me."

"Huh?"

Sam could sense Dean looking down at him so he angled his face to look up at his brother's.

"You saved me, tonight. You saved me, Dean. So you don't get to feel bad about my shoulder anymore." He reasoned simply, smiling softly before resting his cheek back against his brother's chest.

"Oh really? Is that how it works?" Dean inquired, Sam could hear the amused smirk in his voice.

"Yup. That's how it works." Sam affirmed with another nod.

"You're ridiculous." Dean remarked with a disbelieving laugh.

"Your face is ridiculous." Sam retorted with a yawn.

Dean snickered, his fingers running through his little brother's tangled mess of hair.

Sam sighed at the comforting feeling, a slight shiver running through his frame as he turtled deeper into the sweater and nuzzled impossibly closer to his big brother.

"We do have to go one place tomorrow." Dean stated, as he brought his legs up onto the couch and lied down, shifting Sam only slightly in the process.

"Where?" Sam whined.

"We've got to get you a jacket."

"I have a jacket."

"It's shit." Dean declared through his own yawn.

Sam rolled his eyes, his big brother was like a dog with a bone, but Dena's exhaustion spiked Sam's sympathy. He knew the older teen hadn't been sleeping very well lately – which he suspected had something to do with their sparring accident.

"We are getting you a new one tomorrow. A good one." Dean declared, apparently taking his brother's silence as objection.

"Okay, Dean." Sam sighed, willing to let his big brother have this one.

Dean hadn't had the greatest couple of weeks, besides having to fight off three assholes tonight, Dean had been damn near devastated after Sam had accidently been hurt when his brother had pinned him during training. The teen had been straight-up mortified when their father had congratulated him for accomplishing such a smooth take-down and it had resulted in an angry confrontation outside of Sam's hospital room shortly after his shoulder had been set and while the two older Winchester's thought the youngest had still been asleep.

John hadn't meant to piss Dean off, but the man didn't seem to get why his praise had enraged his eldest in such a volatile way. Sam got it, but seeing as how no one had bothered to include him in the conversation, he didn't bother trying to explain it to his father - that and John never listened to him anyhow.

Dean had been upset that Sam had gotten hurt at his hands - more or less - and his father's accolades had only added insult to that injury, because for Dean to be praised for doing something he found to be most egregious, would feel like taking a dagger to his very soul. Dean hadn't seen the takedown as a skilled maneuver or even an innocent mistake, he had seen it as a betrayal to everything he stood for.

That was why his father's congratulations had made Dean absolutely livid.

Sam knew that. Because he knew Dean, better than anyone else in the whole world.

He could see Dean's fury even as his brother's gentle hands had helped him off the ground and carefully loaded him into the car. He saw it in the waiting room even as Dean was nothing but supportive as allowed Sam to lean up against him. Sam saw Dean's rage when he was standing nervously outside the x-ray room, and he saw it when he held his brother's hand and tried not to cry while his shoulder was being set. But John, well John didn't see it until Dean unleashed on him. Sam nearly felt bad for their father who was blindsided by his son's anger the moment Dean thought they were alone and out of his kid brother's earshot. Dean hadn't blamed the eldest Winchester for the accident that had occurred, though Sam knew if their father hadn't been pushing them – especially Dean – so damn hard, that Sam wouldn't have been hurt. But Dean didn't blame John. Didn't accuse him of being unfair or pushing too hard. No, Dean was furious with their father because of the praise he had given. Sam could recall the rage and disbelief in his big brother's voice as he had spoken to John. The confrontation hadn't resulted in much, Dean had been able to release his anger and their father had stood there and been his defensive self, until eventually he left. When the boys got back to the motel late that night, Sam exhausted and his recently re-located shoulder tucked in a sling, John's duffel and truck had been gone. Which wasn't abnormal, as much as the older man always ran to a fight, he seemed to run from conflict just as often. Neither brother mentioned their dad's departure, there was no need. He would come back when he pleased or summon the boys when it was time, and that would be that. The money he left on the table and the lack of orders and chores he left behind for the boys would be as much as an apology as John Winchester would ever give.

But that was okay, because Sam had Dean, and Dean had Sam.

And as Sam fell to sleep that night to the sound of his big brother's heartbeat and steady deep-sleep breathing, he knew that was enough.

It always had been enough.

And it always would be.

**The End** (like, probably - at least until next Halloween)

* * *

Note: Did you like it? I hope so! I sacrificed my sleep for this sucker. Lots more writing to do, hopefully I'll find the time soon to get it done. Thanks for reading! - Sam


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